


Always you read my mind

by kazarina



Series: Meant for each other [1]
Category: Captive Prince - C. S. Pacat
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Fluff, Laurent is an architect, M/M, Probably very cheesy, very self-indulgent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-28 05:42:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,211
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22648852
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kazarina/pseuds/kazarina
Summary: Their meetings have always been proper and professional. Usually Laurent meets him at the holiday house, a one hour drive along the coast from the city - a lovely sloping downhill with stunning coastal views - and easily the best part of Laurent’s day. Part of the novelty is that it is rare in Laurent’s schedule because most clients haggle down to the tiniest detail and would never dream of paying for the architect to visit a faraway property more than once.Not Damen, who appears to be an amateur interior designer, or at least has a creative soul somewhere hidden beneath the expensive business suits he wears.
Relationships: Damen/Laurent (Captive Prince)
Series: Meant for each other [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1696846
Comments: 15
Kudos: 153





	Always you read my mind

**Author's Note:**

> Yep I wrote this instead of working on my other fic...

Their meetings had always been proper and professional. Usually Laurent meets him at the holiday house, a one hour drive along the coast from the city - a lovely sloping downhill with stunning coastal views - and easily the best part of Laurent’s day. Part of the novelty is that it is rare in Laurent’s schedule because most clients haggle down to the tiniest detail and would never dream of paying for the architect to visit a faraway property more than once. 

Not Damen, who appears to be an amateur interior designer, or at least has a creative soul somewhere hidden beneath the expensive business suits he wears. Damen is adamant on being in the very space they were designing for every meeting, citing a need to feel the inspiration while he explained his vision. He gladly paid for Laurent’s time including the drive, so there were definitely no complaints there.

In all the months that Laurent has known him, the man seems to be a full-on romantic, a kind of idealistic idiot of its own category, wanting all the impractical things for his house just because it _looked_ perfect. Did he really have to have another set of spiral stairs, Laurent had asked, surely four different ways of accessing the second level of the house is way too much? Damen argued passionately, and Laurent snidely told him he may have to forgo having a kitchen after all, due to the lack of space. Fortunately for Damen, Laurent rearranged a number of features (thank god cost was not an issue for Damen), and eventually designed a minimalistic set of stairs for him.

In truth, Laurent loved listening to him, even though he wouldn’t admit it. He had a clear vision, and Laurent understood it, understood where he was getting at even if the actual suggestions were not quite right. It was going to be a place of quirkiness, of a thing resembling mazes and hidden passageways. It was going to be childish fun as well as simple and elegant. After each meeting, Laurent simply itched to head back to the office to work on it. It ranked within his top five interesting projects over his 10 years of experience as an architect. 

As far as clients go, Damen was a rare breed. He argued with a sense of conviction for his way when it mattered but otherwise generally deferred to Laurent’s expertise and respected him for his skill. If Laurent said it was not going to be possible and simply not worth the exorbitant amount of money to achieve a particular idea, then Damen accepted it. More often than not, Laurent would always provide a counter idea that suited Damen’s needs perfectly. Damen would then smile his wide dimple-showing smile and beam at Laurent with guileless joy. He would say, “Always you read my mind.” In return, Laurent would let a small smile curve his lips, a rare occurrence that very few people had cause to witness. Perhaps it was Damen’s passionate enthusiasm that he approached everything in his life with, or his way of wearing his heart on his sleeve. Whichever it was, and despite Laurent’s best efforts, it always managed to hammer a little crack through Laurent’s usual stoicism, a manner that he had necessarily affected since the days of his legal battle with his uncle over the firm. 

More than once, Laurent wondered what it would be like if Damen wasn’t married. He had met Damen’s wife several times at the beginning – after all it was the holiday home that he had bought for her. She was dazzling at his side, and the two of them together could have dazzled whole crowds. A picture perfect unit. Initially she listened in and nodded her way through but after a while, it was clear design wasn’t her interest. She made a couple of suggestions on wall colors, and brightened when Damen suggested including a pool, but otherwise did not contribute much.

Watching Damen dote on his new wife was almost excruciating for Laurent. Damen was always the one to extend a hand to her, to rub her shoulders, to enquire if she was too hot or too cold. She never did any of that, preferring to turn everything into teasing words. Eventually she stopped coming to the meetings, claiming it was too much of a travel. 

With most clients, the design would take a couple of weeks, at most 2 months, and then Laurent would hand the design over and thereafter let his assistant handle any residual communications. But Damen’s full time job of running his various business ventures left him little time to discuss or approve the designs, and frequently they would fall into one of these unproductive patterns. After corresponding via email and agreeing on various items, Laurent would diligently add on to the design, making careful calculations and documenting them meticulously, only to have Damen retract his mind when they both stood in front of the house. 

Once when Damen had changed his mind for the fourth time, Laurent pursed his lips together, and stalked out of the house to calm his temper before he yelled at his client. He leaned over the railing then and tried to let the beautiful sea view take over the thought of countless days of work he had wasted. When Laurent whirled around at Damen’s footsteps, eyes blazing, he found the man with sad downcast eyes, mumbling an apology. Instantly, the fire quenched.

Laurent sighed as he said, “It’s okay. You paid for the work after all.” 

Damen said, “I don’t want you to think it was for nothing. It made me realise it wasn’t what I want.” 

Already Laurent could feel he was starting to act in a less than professional way, so he shrugged and said, “Well, no complaining when you get the bill.”

“That I can handle.” Damen instantly cheered up, “As long as you’re not mad at me.”

Three months in, Damen suddenly turned up at Laurent’s office, flustered and out of sorts. All Laurent could think of was that the house was on fire and had been completely destroyed. They had wasted all this time and the design was not going to be realised. Weren’t there reports of bushfire recently? Laurent frowned as he struggled to remember their location. Meanwhile, Damen paced and paced without saying a single word and Laurent’s agitation grew inwardly with the motion. Eventually, unable to keep the suspense, he asked, heart in mouth, “Please stop that, Damen. What’s happened?” 

Damen looked like he hadn’t slept. He hadn’t shaved which lent him a slightly rugged look. Handsome rugged - Laurent would only register that later, because his mind swarmed then with all sorts of disasters that had befell the lovely holiday home. Termites. Flooding. Erosion. Sinking. 

Damen stopped his pacing then and sat down heavily in the couch to the corner of Laurent’s office. It was very much out of character for him, who always behaved with conscientious politeness with Laurent.

“I don’t know if I want to complete the renos after all.” Damen whispered, his expression stricken, as he buried his head in his large hands over and over.

Alarmed, Laurent waited. 

Damen’s eyes flicked side to side uncertainly, “Jokaste... she left me.”

It felt rather anticlimactic for Laurent. There was instant relief that the house was perfectly fine. And then the implication sank in. 

“ Oh my god I’m so sorry, Damen.” He said. 

“For my brother.” Damen gritted out.

At first Laurent didn’t immediately get what he meant, but Damen repeated himself, “She left me for my brother. I saw them...”

Laurent’s eyes widened. He walked around the desk, and carefully placed a hand on Damen’s shoulder. 

“You shouldn’t have to go through that.” He said gently. “Don’t make rash decisions now, we can still shelf the project aside while you think on what you want.”

Damen turned raw grief-filled eyes on him, so searing that Laurent wondered how he wasn’t burned right to the ground. He veered back a little although Damen does not notice.

“ _I can’t!_ ” Damen said, “I can’t go into that house. It’s meant to be ours. I don’t want to do the renos. I don’t want anything to do with it! I’m sorry!”

Damen left then, his heavy footsteps ringing out. With Damen departure’s, Laurent felt oddly bereft even though he had been having a perfectly good day before Damen came around. As an architect, he knows that many jobs don’t see the light of day, projects can be cancelled halfway or shelved never to be seen again. But somehow, for this one, he had been lulled by Damen’s passion and the way it had dragged on for more than 6 months now. Of all his projects, this would have been the one he would put his money on to be completed. And now gone, just like that. 

A part of Laurent wants to go after Damen and comfort him, but they’re not friends and surely, Laurent thinks, it would be quite weird, not to mention unprofessional. In any case, Laurent doesn’t know how to comfort another person much. He could tell Damen that Jokaste wasn’t much to start with, that Damen deserved better, but obviously Damen felt deeply for her. He could perhaps sit and drink with Damen, once he got over his distaste for alcohol, and they would have nothing in common except the design of the house – the holiday house he bought for Jokaste, and a sore point for Damen. In the end, Laurent decides to let him be. Time would heal the wounds.

Two months pass, and Laurent doesn’t hear from Damen at all. He thought of him frequently, unable to forget that last time Damen had looked in so much pain. He decides to try and talk to Damen at least once more. Perhaps his emotions have cooled since then. 

Laurent thinks he called Damen, but later on Damen recalls it as him calling Laurent’s office. Either way, the conversation went easier than Laurent expected. 

“No don’t interrupt, I want you to hear me out.” Laurent said, his stern voice stopping Damen in its tracks. “That project was _your_ project from the start. Those were _your_ ideas and _your_ design. You were making a beautiful place that you wanted, that you loved. Just because the person you were going to share it with isn’t there anymore doesn’t mean you can’t finish it for yourself!”

There was a breath over the phone and a then a long pause. 

“Laurent...” Damen said. 

“It’s a part of you now. Don’t give up on you.” Laurent pleaded. 

“You… put it all in the right words.” Damen said. “Always you read my mind.” He added ruefully, recalling possibly the one phrase he has said to Laurent more often than he can count, albeit under much happier circumstances. There was a long pause and Damen doesn’t say more, which confused Laurent. 

“What?” Laurent said bluntly. 

“I would like to finish the design.” Damen said softly, formally, “with you, if you’re available.”

“You would?” Laurent replied, somewhat incredulous. He hadn’t thought Damen would be easy to convince – the man was stubborn as a mule when he wanted to be – and so Laurent had prepared many more arguments. 

“Yes, I would.” Damen said it solemnly, like a promise or like a wedding vow, although Laurent thought it best not to take him too much at his word. 

“Also, it is your design too.” Damen added. 

“Do you... need some time to think?” Laurent said hesitantly.

“No, I’m sure.”

When Laurent doesn’t immediately reply, Damen said, “I’ve been thinking of the same thing for some time now.”

“Alright.” Laurent said, still stunned. “We can make an appointment in a weeks’ time.” Then he added an almost petulant warning, “Don’t you dare back out on this!” They were both well aware that Damen was the paying client and Laurent sure as hell had no authority of him. 

Damen didn’t seem to care though, “I promise!” He said cheerfully. 

Laurent imagined then that Damen’s eyes were lit up with excitement, that Damen was likely pacing in his office, the way he always did when he got excited about something or other. A smile bubbled up in Laurent quite unthinkingly, and Laurent had to bow his head to hide it in self-consciousness. It simply wouldn’t do for the rest of his firm to see their head architect smiling like an idiot.

Time passes quicker than Laurent expects. Instead of taking weeks to progress on the design, they spend almost several times a week in discussion over it. Once or twice, Damen got glassy-eyed when Laurent talked animatedly, and he had to put on a glare to remind Damen to listen. Laurent thought that it happened most frequent when the night wore long and Damen must surely be tired.

Within a month, they have everything sorted except for the archway over the garden entrance. It’s the last thing to be decided on and Laurent sends a number of drawings as well as photographs of existing designs to Damen. For Damen, Laurent puts in the effort of looking up a full range of ideas - a wide range of materials - metal, wood, stone, brick – with or without a hedge around it, all of it in various styles - modern, traditional, simple, convoluted, ridiculously funky. Unlike with some other clients, Laurent has learnt that it’s better not to give them too much choice, but that is not the case for Damen. For good measure, Laurent adds in the archway that stands at his own home, a broken stone arch that is absolutely hideous and which Laurent simply hasn’t got the time to organise getting rid of. He adds that in as a joke. _There you go, the full range: This one’s called might-fall-on-your-head-at-any-moment. You can even have that one for free._

It took a full week for Damen to respond. He wants Laurent’s broken archway. Yes, he will take it off Laurent’s hands. Laurent stares at his screen, trying to see if he had imagined the words in his head, and failing that, types an email back with a single line: _You’re kidding right?_

Damen replies instantly, in the space of under a minute.

_No I’m not. Everything that passes through your hands is beautiful and perfect._

Laurent freezes. It is Damen’s stubborn, overly-romanticized view of the world taking him amok again. And Laurent is going to talk some sense into him. 

Laurent’s body operates in autopilot. He’s vaguely aware that he’s looking up Damien’s address in the company system for his personal use, a breach of privacy. _Unprofessional_ , a tiny voice in him whispers. He’s vaguely aware of the forces in him that propels him to drive to said address. He can feel his foot step off the pedal, his hand turn off the ignition, and hear the car dying down and becoming still. He can still reason. He has a perfectly good explanation for doing this. He feels calm.

That is, until he reaches Damen’s apartment door. That is when his heart is pounding through the roof, his palms start to get sweaty and he tries his best to push down the odd feeling.

Laurent vaguely thought he was there to talk Damen out of a stupid decision. He was there to rid him of his ridiculous sentimentality, stop him from marring the whole design. He thought wrong. Because when Damen answers the door with widened eyes, a flush rising up his neck, and shuffles on his feet nervously, the air between them changes. Laurent takes that one delicate step in and kisses him. 

Laurent’s kiss is hesitant and unsure, no more than a peck on Damen’s lips, but it doesn’t stay that way because Damen pulls him in and clutches at him, kissing him fiercely and deeply, engulfing him in a tide of passion. Laurent thinks helplessly, this is what it’s like to be wanted by someone like Damen.

Damen’s arms are coiled around him and they embrace him like hot fire. Every slide of palm against bare skin tingles and adds to the intimate contact, the implication of what it all means, and the line they have now crossed. Laurent doesn’t even know when he started falling in love with Damen.

But it is Damen who pushes him back a little, causing a shadow of doubt to rise within Laurent; the sting of rejection is a bitter taste swirling in his mouth and he instinctively swallows. Laurent bows his head to hide the flush in his cheeks and he thinks he should apologise, but Damen makes a strange stopping motion. 

Damen stutters when he speaks - he never stutters - “I... w – want to do this right,” he whispers. His body is taut as if he’s put up a sandbar against the tide of his emotions, straining to explode within him. Only his eyes betray the depth of how much he feels. “Would you come in for a drink?” 

And immediately Laurent understands. Damen has burned himself badly on his impulsiveness with Jokaste and he’s learnt that lesson now. 

Damen’s eyes are warm and hopeful and that honesty is touching, so Laurent allows himself to be led by the hand in, as if they are sweet teenagers in a romance novel. He smiles at Damen reassuringly, shyly, when Damen almost trips over his own feet. 

They sit next to each other on the couch, without touching, their drinks on the small coffee table beside them. Laurent doesn’t have the heart to say he doesn’t drink, so he simply does not touch his wine glass.

Damen’s eyes are bright with a light as he says, “So I can have your archway?”

One side of Laurent’s lips curved up, “No, it is ridiculous. Surely you know that.” 

Damen’s face falls for a moment and then he frowns. 

A part of Laurent is indignant at the mismatch of the design, and the rest of him is incredulous at Damen’s outrageousness. Laurent blushes. 

“Oh, ok.” Damen says, a little sad.

The architect in Laurent puzzles on it. He sees it as Damen wanting to commemorate not just Laurent and the design but the whole process that Damen had committed to for months. 

Laurent opens his briefcase and pulls out a sheet of blank paper attached to a clipboard and a pencil. He always carries these things with him. He shifts to face Damen and props the clipboard against his knees, so that he may sketch without Damen looking over his shoulder. 

It would be made of metal, he thinks, strong and durable. The sketch takes a whole thirty minutes and Damen spends all of it watching Laurent. When it’s complete, he hands it over to Damen, who instantly breaks into a wide smile, dimple showing, and his eyes meet Laurent’s shining. 

“Of course, you cannot sell it ever or I will sue you for copyright infringement.” Laurent says. 

“It’s perfect! Always you read my mind.” Damen says, grinning foolishly. 

He lays down the sheet between them and traces the repeated starburst logo of Laurent’s firm with one finger, marvelling as he went, until Laurent stops him by grabbing on to his hand. 

“Idiot.” Laurent says, a fond smile floating up his lips.


End file.
